


Discipline

by quiet_rebel



Category: The Queen's Gambit (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Drugs, F/M, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Light Dom/sub, Older Man/Younger Woman, Shameless Smut, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:01:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27503470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiet_rebel/pseuds/quiet_rebel
Summary: "You need some discipline, Miss Harmon."
Relationships: Vasily Borgov/Beth Harmon
Comments: 36
Kudos: 197





	Discipline

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Writing for a new fandom is always scary, but I couldn't resist writing some Beth/Borgov because I love age gap, enemies to lovers, and men in suits who have a soft spot for short, angry girls. 
> 
> This story takes place right after the chess match in Paris. There were so many moments I loved between Beth and Borgov throughout the entire series (and so many stolen glances), but my favorite one was when he looked confused (almost startled) at her tears, like he was wondering why she was giving up so easily. Thus, this smutty piece of fiction! I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Feedback is fuel!
> 
> EDIT: Judging by the number of hits this story has received since I posted, there might be more Beth/Borgov fans out there than I thought! Don't be shy! Come say hi!
> 
> EDIT 2: Please check out the amazing fanart Roissy made at the bottom of the story!

The tears were what rattled Borgov. Not the fact that the little American girl was late. Not the fact that she was obviously hungover. Not the fact that she was utterly unfocused and sloppy in her moves. He would have excused all of that, if not for the tears.

After a sorry excuse for a game, Beth Harmon lifted her head and said to him, “I resign.” With those two words, she rose from the table and walked away in defeat.

Tilting his head, Borgov clenched his jaw and wondered what had happened to the player he first met in Mexico City. When she knocked over her king and crossed her arms like a petulant child, he understood why she was upset and angry. Because even though she had lost to him, at least she had tried and given a damn. 

Here in Paris, she just looked sad.

That disappointed him.

Borgov was still thinking about Beth's tears that evening after the agents retired to their rooms and his wife and son went to bed. In the other room, he stared at the chess pieces on his board, going over the moves from his game with Beth over his head. The more he recalled, the more upset he became. Losing wasn't an option for him, and he assumed Beth played the same way. When he first heard of the American prodigy, he thought he had found someone who was disciplined and confident like him, someone worthy of taking his king and his crown after all these years. But instead of looking into a mirror today, he had played against a person he didn't recognize.

Grabbing his suit jacket with his key, he left his hotel room and wandered down the hall to where the other players were staying. He knew which room belonged to Beth and knocked on the door. Although it was late, he knew Beth would be wallowing in her room after her loss. A moment later, the door cracked open, and he recoiled at the overwhelming stench of alcohol and cigarette smoke.

“What do you want?” Beth's voice croaked from the darkness.

Borgov let himself in and looked around the girl's room. It was littered with empty glass bottles, dirty ashtrays, and half-eaten plates of food. In the middle of all this sat a pristine, untouched chess board with the black and white pieces lined up in order. It was like she had been up going over their game as well.

He turned back to Beth, who was still staring at him. She wore a silk negligee underneath a matching white robe. The curls in her red hair were flat, and her hazel eyes were glassy and bloodshot. 

“What do you want?” Beth asked again, this time in his native language.

Borgov looked around the messy room and collected himself. “A rematch,” he said in English.

Beth blinked a few times. “Why? Isn't it enough you've already beaten me twice? You need to do it one more time to make yourself feel good?” 

How could he explain to her that he actually wanted to see her become the victor? 

Frowning, Borgov pointed to the bed. “Sit down.”

“No.” She crossed her arms with the same defiance he first saw in Mexico. Good. There was still some fire in her.

“Sit down,” he said in Russian.

Now, Beth listened. 

He picked up her wastebasket and began to throw away her trash, her empty bottles, her forgotten food, but when he picked up her handbag, she leaped from the bed.

“Don't touch that!”

Borgov pushed her aside and rummaged through the bag to find the small metal container. Something clattered around inside. He opened it and dumped the green pills into his hand.

“What is this?” he asked her.

She stuck out her chin. “I need them.”

“For what?” he said, examining the drugs.

“That's none of your business.” Beth tried to grab them from him, but he balled his hand into a fist and stalked toward the bathroom. She followed him, yelling the entire time. Without giving it a second thought, he tossed the pills into the toilet and flushed them down the drain. 

“You fucker!” Beth slapped him.

Borgov didn't even flinch, despite the sting of her palm hitting his face. 

Beth gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. “Oh, my god, I didn't mean to do that.”

Liar. 

Once the shock wore off, Borgov grabbed her wrist and dragged her back to the bedroom. He sat at the foot of the bed and put Beth over his knee. A dark cloud filled his head as he lifted her silky robe and negligee to find her soft, pale bottom. 

Beth tried to twist around on his lap unsuccessfully. “What are you doing?”

“You need some discipline, Miss Harmon,” he said in Russian. 

Borgov brought his hand down on Beth's bottom, spanking both cheeks. She let out a yelp. He did it again and again and again...

“Today's game was pitiful,” he continued speaking in Russian. “You disrespected me by showing up late and hungover. Do I even matter to you? Winning today meant nothing because you didn't even bother to play your best against me. And I know you can do better. I know you can. The whole world does too because the whole world is watching you. Do you even care about that, little one? That you've captured everyone's attention? Even mine? Do you?”

Beth whimpered and moaned the entire time he spoke. He knew she understood every word, but was he getting through to her? 

Borgov was sweating and breathing hard by the time he stopped spanking her. Was it ten? Fifteen? Twenty? Her delicate bottom was a rosy shade of pink—and he could smell how aroused she was. When she squirmed on his lap, he was sure she could feel his bulge digging into her stomach. Deciding Beth still needed some more discipline, he slipped a finger in between her legs and found her wet pussy. At his touch, Beth turned her head to look up at him, her hazel eyes now sober and aware as she awaited his next move in which her body was his board. 

“Little one,” he whispered soothingly in Russian. Then, he flipped her over and placed her on her back on the bed. There was a wet spot on his pant leg where she had laid. 

Resting on her elbows, Beth looked up at him expectantly, her legs falling open to pick up where they left off. He stood next to the bed and cupped the warm mound in between her slick thighs. She mewled and threw her head back. Gauging her reaction, Borgov slowly started to penetrate her with his index finger. Her forehead furrowed in the same manner. 

“Borgov,” Beth gasped.

“Vasily,” he corrected her. 

Staring into his eyes, she said his name, and he rewarded her by adding a second finger inside her. She let out a small cry.

“Too much?” he asked.

She shook her head like a stubborn little girl.

Borgov started to thrust his fingers in and out her tight hole, causing her to moan. His gaze raked over her young body: her pretty flushed face, red lips, hard nipples poking through the silk, flat stomach, long legs, and that pink cunt. While most of his colleagues were jealous or intimidated by Beth's age, he admired her youth. For someone this young to be his match was incredible. 

Beth proved his point by sitting up and reaching for his belt. He watched curiously as she unbuckled it and lowered his zipper. He didn't stop her as she slipped her small hand inside and brought his cock out. Her eyes widened when she saw his long and thick member, and he wanted to smile with pride at her surprise. She swiped the white drop clinging on his tip with her finger and lifted it to her mouth. Looking up at him, she licked it off, and he immediately groaned at the sight. 

“What do I taste like, little one?” Borgov asked.

“Like a dirty old man,” Beth said, biting her lip and stroking his cock.

This time, he did smile.

Borgov cradled the back of Beth's head with his right hand, while his left hand remained in between her open legs. He curled his fingers inside her and massaged her needy clit. 

She tensed, eyes wide again. “Oh, fuck!”

So, Beth liked that. He quickened the pace of his fingers and she nearly flew off the mattress, her right hand falling to wrap around his wrist as if to pull him off her.

“Too much?” he asked once more.

With that same stubbornness in her eyes, Beth shook her head. She removed her hand from his wrist and wrapped both of her hands around his cock. For her next move, she flicked her tongue out and swirled it around his tip, gently sucking on it. 

Borgov sharply inhaled and stiffened at the feel of her mouth. 

Beth stopped and looked up at him innocently. “Too much?”

“I should put you over my knee again,” he said through gritted teeth. 

“Or you can resign,” she said, running her sharp fingernails over his smooth cock.

Oh, no. Beth wasn't going to get away with this so easily.

Borgov moved his determined fingers faster and faster inside her until he felt her pussy clench and gush. With a shrill cry, Beth climaxed with a violent shake of her body. She was still shivering when he gently withdrew his hand. There were new tears in her eyes. 

“Vasily,” she whispered. 

“I know, little one,” he said softly. “I know.”

This rematch was going to end up a draw, whether they liked it or not.

Still holding a handful of her red hair, Borgov slipped his cockhead in between Beth's parted lips. As he stroked himself, she licked and suckled on his tip until he groaned and spilled inside her mouth. She made a face at the taste again, but swallowed every drop. 

The lesson was over. 

Borgov tried not to show that he was trembling as he zipped himself up. His fingers were still drenched with her release, but he didn't bother to clean them. He ran a hand through his slicked-back hair and fixed his tie. He hoped he would be able to get back to his room without being noticed. Glancing at Beth, he watched her sit all the way up and pull her negligee and robe back down, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. She kept her head lowered.

“Miss Harmon.”

Beth lifted her steady gaze to him. 

“Come prepared next time and you will easily take the game from me.” Borgov leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on the top of her head. “And if you don't, you know what will happen, little one.”

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from ["Discipline" by Nine Inch Nails ](https://youtu.be/wHxOiAz4NF8)  
> "I need your discipline  
> I need your help  
> I need your discipline  
> You know once I start I cannot help myself"

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Did I cross the line, line, line?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27592906) by [Roissy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roissy/pseuds/Roissy)




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